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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28669185">Father Figures</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer'>Daegaer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>For Art's Sake [44]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Weiß Kreuz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1920s, AU, Artists, Historical, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:01:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28669185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crawford gets an offer from Miss Lin.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brad Crawford/Schuldig</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>For Art's Sake [44]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/18573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Father Figures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/indelicateink/gifts">indelicateink</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I flip through Miss Lin's sketch book in the pub's dim light, trying to spill neither gin nor cigarette ash on its pages. It's made more difficult by the way in which Schuldig leans in from his perch on the arm of my chair, the better to admire images of himself in various stages of dismemberment.</p><p>"What on earth is this one for?" I say, turning the page around to try to get a sense on the tangle of limbs. The dismemberment seems more extreme than usual in this sketch, although the details of Schuldig's anguished face on the head tossed on the top of the heap are particularly nicely done.</p><p>"It's Jephthah's daughter," Schuldig says cheerfully. "Her father promises to sacrifice whoever comes to greet him after he's won a battle and gets to chop his own daughter up. Her only complaint is that she hasn't ever had a good fucking."</p><p>"An interesting interpretation," Miss Lin murmurs, not taking her eyes from the newly published novel she is reading. It is full of mistaken identities and naked bodies in unexpected places; precisely the sort of book I should expect her to read. "Go back a page or two, Mr Crawford."</p><p>I obey and am confronted by an image of Schuldig in a long, close-fitting tunic, slit to the thigh and a transparent veil, swaying sinuously before a roughly sketched warrior. His hair has been drawn long and free-flowing and numerous bangles adorn his wrists.</p><p>"You make a very pretty girl," I say. "Are you <i>meant</i> to be seducing your father?"</p><p>"You make it sound like I should change that for the finished piece," Miss Lin says with a studied innocence.</p><p>"You do actually want this contract, don't you?" </p><p>She looks up from the novel and takes a sip of her drink.</p><p>"It will pay several bills, and there is such a variety of material to choose from – all of which I have to ignore in favour of stories more suitable for children. But it will pay bills."</p><p>"They loved your illustrations for the fairy tales, Silvia," Schuldig says. "You're better than any of their other illustrators. Why wouldn't they give you this as well?"</p><p>She shrugs as if unmoved by his loyalty and holds out a fresh cigarette at the end of her holder. He lights it at once as she draws deeply on it, looking with interest at both of us.</p><p>"If I do get the contract, what would you say to doing one of the illustrations, Mr Crawford?" She closes the novel, keeping her place with one finger. "This pays better than the other book; the money would pay for your food for a week, probably. Though not drink, given the amount you spend on Schuldig."</p><p>"I'm worth spending on."</p><p>It's a kind offer; she knows I haven't sold anything since the painting for Fredricks. I have, as a matter of fact, but it was small and nothing I can speak of anyway, and since the misadventure of Schuldig's friend Frankie I am feeling the need to build up my funds again. I want to feel secure, although I know it is terribly bourgeois of me. I want, should he ever feel moved to contact me again, to tell my father exactly how much money I have, and for him to be struck silent.</p><p>"Yes, thank you," I say. I can always change my mind later. "Would you like to be the slim young David, Schuldig, or shall I build you up to be a muscular, barbaric Goliath?"</p><p>"I'm reserving that story for myself," she says archly, and we laugh.</p><p>"You can do one with David and Jonathan," Schuldig says, and slides an arm about my neck. "One with Jonathan taking off all his clothes to give to David," he murmurs.</p><p>I look over to Miss Lin, who is watching us silently. I feel I have almost imagined the tiny shake of her head, and then I smilingly hand some money to Schuldig. I really will need to build up my savings.</p><p>"Get us all more drinks, would you?"</p><p>He heads off with alacrity; I take the opportunity to move to a far narrower, and armless, chair beside Miss Lin. She looks at me approvingly, and we look at some of her sketches together. It's alarming how girlish she has made Schuldig in some, how much his young male self in others and in yet others he is neither, a strangely epicene creature not quite of the world.</p><p>"The Annunciation," she says, pointing at one such image of an oddly stern-faced Schuldig stepping on the outstretched hands of a prostrate figure. "Even if I don't get the contract, I think I'll paint it. Perhaps I'll have a new line of Christmas cards."</p><p>I pause, thinking of exactly what sort of angel Schuldig would be in one of her paintings unconstrained by the boundaries of children's publishing. It would be – striking. Even if he could not possibly bring good news to the world. I really <i>will</i> do one of the illustrations if it's possible, I think. It would be a good thing to practice different styles, be known to different audiences. And it would be a picture I could show my family without reservation.</p><p>"Thank you," I say. "I do appreciate your offer."</p><p>"I still have to get the contract," she says, smiling. "I have to be careful to show them only my safest sketchbooks. And you be careful too." Her gaze flicks to Schuldig, approaching with glasses, and back again. "He's been singing your praises to me as quite the hero, Mr Crawford. Stay out of his entanglements and do try to keep him out of them. It will be better by far for both of you."</p><p>She smiles as he reaches us. "Thank you, Mr Crawford."</p><p>"You can thank me, I got it!"</p><p>"Oh, was it your money?" She laughs at his annoyance, pats the chair beside her. "Come and show me something you've been working on. Or draw something right now. Here's a fresh page, here's a pencil – draw!"</p><p>"I'll draw a biblical scene too; you two as Adam and Eve in the Garden," he mutters, sketching busily. </p><p>"This is becoming a crowded market," Miss Lin says cheerfully.</p><p>"And you'll be the beautifully-patterned Serpent?" I ask.</p><p>"Why aim so small?" Schuldig says. "I'll be God, and finally you'll have to obey my every word."</p><p>"Ah, you're drawing a normal workday," I say and they both laugh as I had hoped.</p><p>I want no more in life than this, I think. I have in truth not yet been expelled from the Garden.</p>
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